


Speaking Without Words

by MyMuseHatesMe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Gadreel makes flowers grow with his emotions, Kevin Lives, Wincest - Freeform, because I'm learning about this stuff and he can't know everything, emotions are foreign to Gadreel, let's pretend Sam isn't an encyclopedia of knowledge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21611068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyMuseHatesMe/pseuds/MyMuseHatesMe
Summary: Housing an angel in her brother's broken body after the Fall was dangerous, but if this angel is willing to take sides with the Winchesters, then he’s worth trusting....  Right?And while she understands that Ezekiel has a fixation with gardens, why does he have to turn the bunker into one?
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Gadreel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 15





	1. Ivy

**Author's Note:**

> I used a website called languageofflowers.com for the flower-meaning translations, but it disappeared about halfway through this work, so I turned to Wikipedia and this page (http://www.angelfire.com/journal2/flowers/pcd6.html). All my knowledge comes from the cited sources, and I do not claim to be an expert on how flowers speak.

Dean lets Sam enter the bunker first. The whole drive back from the hospital, he asked questions about what happened leading up to him being in the hospital. Most of those questions she either half-answered or dodged. He is tired and confused, but he is out of the hospital and that's all she cares about. 

Well, most of what she cares about.

Ezekiel said that Sam would need lots of rest, but she made it crystal clear to the angel that she would rip him to shreds if he hurt Sam or allows him to come to harm.

Her brother is all that she has and she's so desperate to save him that she helped an angel trick Sam into giving him consent. She loves him too much to let him die _again_ on her watch. He walks down the staircase as Dean shuts the heavy door behind her.

She hears him yawn as he shuffles his way in the direction of his bedroom. She smiles and follows him down. "Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?" The ancient lighting and empty-smelling air calms her nerves somewhat. _Home,_ her bones tell her. _Safe,_ her brain tells her. _Sam,_ her nose tells her as she catches a whiff of him as she moves into the space he occupied moments before.

"We should, uh. Find Kevin," Sam says haltingly, scrubbing his face with his hands in a futile attempt to at least wake up a little bit more.

Dean chuckles and rubs her brother's back gently. "Sure, Sasquatch. Right after you take a nice, long nap and get yourself back together from the Trials," she acquiesces, steering him toward the door to his room.

Sam slows to a swaying stop in the black space between the wooden frame. Then he turns to Dean, holds out his arms, and gives her a look that doesn't give space for argument.

She huffs a laugh and smiles, walking over to her little brother and hugging him tightly. She can't remember the last time they hugged for no reason at all. Hugging in celebration of saving the world? Yes. Full-on tackle-hugs that are short of screaming, "I'm so glad you're not dead?" Yes. But this?

Just simply showing how much you love your sibling? There aren't many of those.

She allows herself to feel pride and appreciation and love for Sam. He is tall and strong and he smells really good and she doesn't need to see the flash of blue grace in his eyes or feel the posture shift for her to know that she isn't hugging Sam anymore. Dean opens her eyes, but stays still.

"What's wrong?" she asks, not looking up.

He doesn't move, he just… stays where he is. He doesn't move his hands, doesn't shift his stance or anything. "Nothing is wrong," the angel says calmly, "I know he would not say what he was thinking aloud to you, so I took control to tell you."

Confused, Dean loosens her grip around her brother's form. "What… what was he thinking?" She tilts her head and wonders if that question serves to breach Sam's privacy.

"He was thinking of how much he loves you."

Dean closes her eyes and scoffs. "Well, thanks," she drawls, "Appreciate it. Think I can get him back now?"

Sam's posture shifts again and she's got her brother back; they break away a few seconds later. When they go their separate ways to go to bed, Dean stops. _How much he loves you._ "Hey, Sam?"

She hears him stop and turn to her. "Yeah?"

She blinks. "I… I love you," she admits, turning her head so he can at least see half of her face, "I'd tear the world apart for you."

She knows Sam smiles at that. "I know, Dean."

"Don't you Han Solo me!"

Sam laughs, "I just did, dude. Go to bed."

_I lied to you,_ she wants to say as Sam departs, _I lied to your face to save your life and I'm sorry._ She drops her head and looks at her shoes. _There's an angel using you as a vessel without your permission, but he's healing you,_ she wants to say as she enters her room and flicks on the light, _I want you to know about him, but if you do, you'll eject him and then you'll die. And we both know I won't let that happen. I can't let it happen again._

She doesn't say any of that, though. Instead, she stays quiet and is calmed to sleep by Sam's breathing down the hall. 

* * *

The tiny tendrils of ivy blend into the shadows and cracks of the bunker too well. You need to be looking for them in order to see them.

And neither Dean nor Sam are looking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ivy = fidelity, friendship, affection


	2. Snowdrop

"We need a code word," Dean says to Gadreel the next day as she's stocking up the gun locker in the Impala's trunk, "So you know when I need to talk to you." She recognized his strides as he entered the garage.

Gadreel nods. "What did you have in mind?"

She looks up and considers. She walks over to the Impala and slides into the driver’s seat before turning on the radio. She takes a moment to switch through some stations and flick through her cassette collection.

He approaches the vehicle and rests his hand on the top as he waits for her to choose.

Dean tilts her head when a familiar tune floats from the speakers. ( _Some of them want to use you…_ ) "Ah, yes," she decides, " _Sweet Dreams_ and… _Tainted Love_. Doesn't matter who's singing it, though. Try and memorize the lyrics and rhythms so when I need you, all I have to do is say or play a section of the song and you'll take over." She looks up at him and asks, "How's that sound?"

( _Some of them want to get used by you…_ )

He considers for a moment and then nods. "That appears to be a good plan to avoid raising Sam's suspicion," he agrees.

( _Some of them want to abuse you…_ )

Dean nods and reaches out to turn off the car. She stops short and looks up at him. “I’ll, uh… let you listen to it,” she says, climbing out of the car and walking away.

( _Some of them want to be abused…_ )

Gadreel reflects upon this for a moment and then carefully folds himself into the small vehicle. 

( _Sweet dreams are made of this, who am I to disagree?_ )

After all, he thought, Dean doesn’t let just anyone sit in the driver’s seat.

( _I travel the world and the seven seas…_ )

( _Everybody’s looking for something…._ )

* * *

Hours later, Sam is standing in the kitchen with Dean and he is staring at the flowers in the vase on the table. When they both walked in, neither of them had noticed, but now Sam sees them and knows how out of place they are here. He blinks and asks, "Where'd those come from?"

Dean's heart thumps in her chest as she shifts her gaze to the flowers that she definitely has not seen before. "Uhh," she stalls, "Do- do you not like them?" She looks up at Sam, who takes a moment to tear his eyes away from the mysterious flowers. 

She is claiming the flowers as her idea. Is she sticking with this lie? Yes. Yes, she is.

"I thought that, maybe, we could, uh," she stumbles over her words as she guides him to a chair before he falls on his face, "try something new? You know, flowers smell good? And, um," she bounces her leg nervously, "They're calming and pretty and you're still recovering and – and don't people in hospitals get flowers when they're sick?"

Sam blinks and looks back at the bouquet. "I… guess?" His brows furrow in confusion as he adds, "I was just wondering where they came from, is all." Looking back at her, he finishes, "I don't know – you've never expressed much interest in flowers, so I was kinda surprised."

Oh. She had panicked for no reason. _Dammit, Zeke,_ she curses internally, reaching out to cover Sam's hand with her own. "I was… trying to help out. Try something new." She fights a flinch when she realizes she repeated herself.

But Sam smiles softly and says how grateful he is. He pulls his hand away so he can take a picture of the flowers with his phone. "They're nice, Dea, thank you."

Her heart does a weird little flip-flop-s _tut_ ter when he says that.

When he leaves the room to get some more sleep, she sits down, puts her head between her knees, and breathes deeply.

She is going to have A Talk™ with Ezekiel.

* * *

Sam frowns at the single flower in front of Dean's door. It has two leaves (they are long and thin and almost reach where the stem curves into the blossom) and three long, rounded white petals opening up wide around the stigma. He takes a picture of it and sends it to Charlie in an email that asks, "Can you tell me what flower this is?"

Six minutes later, he gets a reply. 

~

Galanthus _or snowdrop. Comes from Greek words gála (milk) and ánthos (flower). Native to Europe and the Middle East, it grows best in woodland, acidic, or alkaline soils._

_Flower language meaning: Consolation or hope._

_Hope this helps, nerds!_

_\- CB_

~

Huh. He hadn't even thought of the meanings the flowers held.

He sends a brief thank you and goes back to his research, pushing aside the nagging sensation that he is missing something major. He doesn't trip over the ivy, nor does he mind it.

It's meant to be there, it's always been there; why should he pay any mind to it?

And when he emerges from the bunker two days later to get some fresh air and the world outside has exploded with all kinds of new plants, well, that's all right.

This is normal, this is what is supposed to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snowdrop = consolation, hope


	3. Phlox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intoxicated Dean and confessions....

This is not what is supposed to happen.

Dean has had a lot of beer and whiskey today. A lot. And she doesn't care.

Sam will be back from the library in a little bit and probably bitch about how she needs to drink water and eat something. Then he'll probably get that shit for her and bring it to her.

Man, she does _not_ deserve her brother. She doesn't know who _would_ deserve him, come to think of it. He is doing a lot better than he has in the past few weeks – he is stronger now, can go up and down the staircase twice and not be winded, and he goes to bed at a decent hour.

But friggin' Ezekiel is driving her up a friggin' wall. The _flowers_ and the _ivy_ and _dammit_ , he's supposed to be keeping a low profile because if Sammy figures out something's amiss, he'll start asking questions that she doesn't have a straight answer for.

Ha. _Straight_. Dean snorts at her unintentional joke.

She wonders if Cas is all right.

* * *

Gadreel is careful. He needs to be careful, after all, but especially now.

Dean is inebriated and thinking about Castiel. Jealousy becomes an ugly serpent that rears its head and hisses in his ear. He doesn't take control from Sam; he lets him deal with Dean.

Sam approaches her and stands a few feet away from her. "Hey," he says easily, "How much have you had?"

Dean looks up at him and then at the bottles scattered around. She gestures vaguely. "That much," she answers, tilting her head farther back than necessary.

Sam nods and puts his hands on his hips. "Uh-huh."

She nods along with him and repeats his 'uh-huh' in the exact same tone. She takes in a deep breath and looks down at the bottle in her hand.

"Something going on, Dean?" Sam pulls up a chair and sits down, planting his feet on the outside of the chair legs and clasping his hands between his knees.

When Dean inhales sharply and sits up a little straighter, Gadreel poises his hand over Sam's consciousness, ready to take control in case Dean decides to tell the truth. His fingers itch when Dean says, "We're not supposed to have secrets, Sammy."

Sam scoffs and scrubs his face with his hands. "Yeah, well, it's never really worked out well when we did, Dean." Flashes of memories wash over Gadreel and he nearly drowns in them as Sam merely tunes it out and dams it up. (raw emotions, _you chose a vampire over your own brother, dean_ , blood, _didn't even have to ask you to kill ruby as i held her_ , pain, screaming, _you sold your soul for me_ , kryptonite, _cas broke my head, but he took the pain from me_ , love)

"Okay, but, what if this secret is bad?" She raises her eyebrows and looks up at him meaningfully, " _Bad_ bad. Like… _dirtywrongbad_ kind of bad? Like, you'll never want to look at me again kind of bad?"

Gadreel has been in Sam's mind long enough to know why his heart starts beating like it wants to escape his ribcage. "What… what would make me not want to look at you again, Dean?" Sam slides forward in his seat. "What's the secret?"

Gadreel knows Sam's secret about his big sister. He wonders if he's afraid of Sam learning Dean's secret about her little brother.

She reaches out for him. He's too far away for her to touch him. She flails her hand and makes grabbing gestures with her fingers. "Come- get down here, you Goliath."

He does as she asks. Sam kneels next to her, facing her, and sits on his heels. She rises to her knees, as well and sways a bit, but she catches herself on the couch. "I'm okay," she mutters as she swats Sam's hands away when he tries to steady her, "'m fine." She looks into his eyes and schools her face to show no emotion.

Sam sees all kinds of unspoken confessions pass behind her eyes. He wonders if this is like a dam for her – if she opens up about this secret, will that bring the wall down and flood everything? 

He loves his sister, but she hasn't learned to share burdens. She keeps everything on her shoulders and then feels like a failure when it becomes too heavy for her.

Dean makes a slightly disgusted face and a small noise to match it before she settles on, "Ah, screw it. I love you, man."

He blinks. Chooses to translate her words through a familial filter. Then he starts laughing. "Yeah, I- I love you, too, but I'm… I'm not sure that counts as a secret."

"Mmmmnyes, it does," Dean slurs, trapping Sam's face between her hands and closing the distance.

Sam makes a small sound of surprise at the back of his throat when his sister's lips press against his.

Gadreel blinks. _Did she just-?_

She's gentle, but firm. Offering something, but not shoving so there's no escape. She's giving him an out if he wants it.

And Sam… doesn't want it. He wraps his arms around her and holds her up as he opens up beneath her and tastes the alcohol on her tongue. It's messed up. Just a little bit. He knows that, thank you very much, but he doesn't care because all the guilt he's carried since before puberty about loving his sister in such a way his been set on fire because _she's felt the same way about him!_

She makes a sound somewhere in between a sigh and a moan and he yanks her into his lap, wrapping one arm around her waist and grasping the middle of her thigh with the other. He decides he's going to gentle and sweet because Dean is drunk and she might bitch at him later about 'taking advantage of her.' She growls when he squeezes her leg and she nips at his bottom lip while rolling her hips into his.

You know what, scratch that previous decision.

He keeps her steady but takes a handful of her hair and pulls her head back, so he can nip and kiss her neck. He feels her pulse flutter beneath his lips and she sighs.

" _Shit, Sam…_ " It sounds like a plea that precedes tears. "Ah, _fuck_. Why is this our life?"

He pulls away and releases her hair so she can look at him. He shakes his head. "I don't know. But I don't really care right now," he breathes heavily, sliding his hands under her so he can get to his feet.

Dean's eyes widen when she realizes she's being carried like the chick in some cheesy romance flick. "Hey- hey, now, don't carry-"

Gadreel doesn't need to see the bitchface Sam levels at her to know that it was a powerful one. Dean shuts her mouth and holds his shoulders as he takes them to his room. He shuts the door behind him with his foot and lays her down on the bed, bracing himself above her and suffocating her with kisses again.

When they break away for breath, they are both panting and Dean arches up against him.

"Now, Dean," Sam warns, "You're drunk, so we're not gonna-"

"Stop bein' a lil' _bitch_ , Sam," she whines, shoving him to the side.

He doesn't catch himself in time and Dean has the upper hand now. He's flat on his back and she's straddling him, hands around his wrists and holding them on either side of his head. Sam squirms a bit, and then stills beneath her. He smiles and whispers back, "I would if you'd stop bein' a _jerk_ , Dean."

She smiles down at him, perfect happiness on her face.

He wants to memorize this. He wants to memorize the utter, complete love in his sister's eyes; he wants to drown in that love. So if her eyes are an ocean, then her mouth is oxygen.

Thankfully, the surface comes down to greet him and he doesn't know how long they stay there, just kissing because this is all they need. All they've ever needed was each other.

And they don't have to pretend anymore.

* * *

Gadreel wrestles with himself. He wants to be in Sam's place right now, he _wants_ it so _badly_ , but he _can't_. He can't slide into control and kiss Dean because Sam would recognize that lapse of memory and that would not be good.

So he does the next best thing he can think of.

He gets as close to Sam's emotions as he can and closes his eyes, letting the _love_ and _peace_ and _wholeness_ wash over him. Because there are two people inside Sam and both of them love Dean.

A sprig of phlox grows outside of the room in a matter of minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phlox = harmony, unity


	4. Plumeria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean makes a realization. Gadreel makes a realization.

By the next morning, the ivy has crawled up the walls and curved over the ceiling in some places. The bottom three inches of the wall are completely covered by the green vines. Leaves unfurl and fall into the hallway, brushing shoulders and quivering in the wakes of passers-by.

Dean stubbornly refuses to acknowledge the flora's existence and Sam does not ask about it.

* * *

Castiel comes to the bunker, his grace drained by Metatron and leaving him defenseless and human. Dean does not hesitate to welcome him inside and helps Sam get a room ready for their friend.

Castiel thinks the flowers scattered about and growing in odd corners are lovely, if not odd, and he makes no comment on them.

Something knocks gently at Sam's memory about a book he'd read once. What was it? It was about the meanings of flowers and how to arrange a message with a bouquet or a single bloom.

He couldn't remember.

Ah, well. It probably isn't important, anyway. He smiles and greets Cas warmly, careful to keep a respectful distance from the graceless angel as he adjusts to the change in his life.

* * *

Three words. That's all it takes to shatter Dean's heart on the tile floor.

"He can't stay," Ezekiel says firmly, displeasure lining his steely voice. He eyes Castiel warily over her shoulder.

She wants to cry. Castiel needs help and she can help him. He needs a place to stay, there's an entire bunker here. He needs a family, they are a family. He needs stability, they- Well... okay, they're not entirely stable; but together, they are more stable than he is by himself!

"Zeke, I can't-"

"The angels are looking for him," Ezekiel explains icily, taking a step past her so he isn't in her peripherals, "and if they find him here, none of you will be safe. You and Castiel are human while Sam and I are _still_ healing."

She stares at the floor.

"I," he soothes gently, placing his hands on her shoulders, " _cannot_ protect you if it comes to that – any of you."

Sadness gives way to rage, which gives way to resolve. She squares her shoulders and lifts her head. "That wasn't part of your job description," she says firmly. She takes a few steps farther than the length of Sam's arms so he isn't touching her anymore. Turning to face him, her gaze is cool and even as she decides, "Cas stays and so do you. I don't need your protection – I never did, Zeke."

He raises his chin and a muscle in his jaw works. "This is not what was agreed upon, Dean," Ezekiel argued, "If the angels find Castiel-"

"No," she spits, taking a swift step forward, "You listen to me, Ezekiel." She sees a minuscule shift in his features before he gets ahold of himself again. She stands up straight, tilting her head back and looking at him through narrowed eyes in suspicion. "What was that."

"What was what?"

"That. That _twitch_." Her lip curls in distrust as she gestures at her brother's face.

He blinks. "Then it was a twitch."

" _You_ … don't _twitch_." Everything he did was careful, calculated. He kept his expressions on a tight leash.

"Nonsense. Everyone twitches."

"You don't get to dodge this," Dean insists, "You twitched when I said your name."

He scoffs lightly. "I did _not_ twitch at my name."

"Liar." Her voice is airy with surprise. He was lying to her. What else has he lied about? "Liar. What are you hiding?" Shit, he's possessing Sam. She _helped_ him possess her brother.

"Do you not trust me, Deanna?"

"Not right now, I don't!"

At that declaration, Ezekiel's eyes flash blue and Dean snatches Sam's wrist. She wants to look him straight in the eyes and call that angel _right the hell back out_ and finish their conversation, but she's looking at Sam now and she can't do it.

Sam blinks awake and breathes deeply. He looks around, confused. "Dean?" His fingers curl reflexively over her wrist, as well.

She is almost ashamed at how fast the lie falls from her tongue. "You were sleepwalking, dude. Come on. Back to bed," and just like that, she leads him down the halls to his room.

* * *

Gadreel waits until Sam is safely under the covers of his bed and the darkness of the room pulls his vessel into unconsciousness before he takes control again and sits up on the edge of the bed.

Heaven's prison was Hell.

Gadreel has been shuffling around in Sam's mind long enough to know that what he is feeling is called touch deprivation – or something like that. He wants to be touched, he _needs_ to be touched; he has spent so long in solitude, in silence that this intimacy with two humans makes him dizzy. They are not that intimate, per se, but it is for him.

He sometimes takes control when Sam is by himself, lost in research so he would not suspect anything when he, 'catches himself zoning out'. Gadreel would stare at Sam's large hands and then carefully slide them over his borrowed body. His thighs, his arms, his neck… he would hold his fingers lightly against the veins and arteries in his neck so he could feel the small beat and warmth of the life he helped save.

He has never taken control when Dean makes contact, but he wants to.

He wants to be touched.

He wants to be touched by _Dean_ and that realization terrifies him.

* * *

Ezekiel isn't talking to her. She tries humming the assigned tunes and she gets no response. She tries slipping the lyrics as phrases casually into conversation to lure him out, but to no avail. Hell, she blasts the songs and looks straight at Sam, but no blue flash comes.

Dean is getting worried. Maybe Ezekiel wasn't lying. Maybe she had misinterpreted a sign of fatigue as a nervous flinch.

The angel is healing, too, after all.

* * *

A patch of plumeria blossoms out of the ground far above Sam's room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plumeria = perfection, springtime, new beginnings


	5. Daffodil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *veiled sexual acts in this chapter*

Gadreel is sitting at Sam's place at the table in the library. He has Sam's laptop open in front of him and searching for the prophet. So when Dean comes up behind him, crosses her arms over his chest, and plants a kiss on his neck, his eyes widen in shock.

Gadreel had never meant for Dean, at any time, to mistake him for her brother, but… when an opportunity such as this presents itself, does he really wish to correct the mistake?

"Hey, Sam," she says, looking at his screen, "what'cha doin'?"

No, he does not. "Ah, I'm…." His throat is impossibly dry. She straightens up behind him and slides her hands up to his shoulders. "Trying to find Kevin," he finishes, camouflaging himself behind Sam's words, Sam's cadence, Sam's confidence. He feels that confidence crack when Dean's hand curls gently around his throat and caress his skin.

He wants to roll his eyes up into his head and lean back into Dean's body. He wants to stay in this moment forever.

"How long have you been up?" she asks, worry lining her voice.

Gadreel thinks. Sam had been awake for about thirteen hours before passing out. Then Gadreel stepped in and continued the work – and that was three hours ago. But Sam wouldn't know that. So he shrugs. "Uhm, I don't, I'm not really sure."

Dean hums. "Come on," she orders gently, pulling away from him, "We're going to bed."

He almost cries out at the loss of her hands on him, but Sam would not do that. Sam would get up and follow her. So he does.

He catches up to her quickly and then slows his pace to match hers. Dean looks up at him and smiles, taking his hand and lacing her fingers through his. Gadreel shyly smiles back, like Sam would, and gently squeezes her hand.

He hears her think, _"I love you,"_ and he stops. He does not have to use his imagination and pretend her words are directed at him because 'Sam' was not included in those words and Dean did not say them aloud.

Her smile drops and she turns to him, concerned. "Sam? You okay?" She lets go of his hand and does not encroach into his personal space.

Gadreel swallows. Then he leans down and kisses Dean on her lips. He is not sure whether Dean will be angry at him for distracting her from sleep, but he wants, and he _wants_ -

Dean winds the fingers of one hand through his borrowed hair and slides the other up and down his chest.

His heart soars as courage and boldness spike in his brain. Taking hold of her waist, he lifts her up and steps forward, firmly pushing her against the wall.

She grunts into his mouth. He smiles against hers.

Gadreel is careful about spreading his wings. He cannot let her see them, but he is experiencing such a powerful tide of emotions that he can't _not_ spread them. He does not allow his grace to shine through and illuminate them; he simply spreads them and sighs at the sensation.

He understands why wars have been fought for this. He understands why humans have killed for this. He understands why two halves of a whole ache in the other's absence. He understands.

It frightens him. But he's never felt so powerful.

Gadreel feels guilt blossom in his heart and the pit of his stomach.

 _Thou shalt not covet._ He covets what is not his, he wants what he cannot have.

 _Thou shalt not steal._ He is stealing the affection, the love that is meant for Sam.

 _Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor._ He is lying about being Sam. He is lying about being Ezekiel. He lied about needing Castiel gone.

But all the guilt he feels isn't enough to overpower the raw joy and positive emotions that he feels when Dean is pressed up against him.

All too soon, she pushes him back and tries to give him a stern look. "In this context, Sammy boy," she chastises, "'Bed' means 'sleep'. You are going to rest."

Gadreel takes in a calming breath and nods. "Of course, Dean," he accedes, releasing her and allowing her to lead the way again, "I ap-" _Sam doesn't say apologize likethat,_ "I'm sorry."

Dean laughs over her shoulder and walks into her room. "Don't be sorry, man. You've been pushing yourself too hard."

He stops in the doorway and eyes the bed.

It is Dean's bed. He is going to bed with Dean. He is going to be held by her. He is going to wind himself around her and pretend to dream as she inevitably falls asleep.

And when Sam wakes in the morning, he will assume that Dean pulled him away from his search and took him to bed – it will be fine. He sees no downside to this.

Dean gets into her bedclothes quickly and pulls the covers back, giving him a look that plainly says, _'Get in the friggin' bed.'_ So he does.

* * *

They do not end up sleeping right away. Dean runs her hands over his chest and Gadreel rolls over to kiss her. Dean's breathing picks up and she starts to kiss him back with more fervor, pushing herself up and on top of him.

He quickly rifles through Sam's memories and understands what Dean wants and what he can do. Dean leads and he follows, taking control of their situation just enough to surprise Dean and thrill her.

Ten minutes in, she gasps, "Sam-"

He leans down, lips against her rapid pulse, "What is it? What can I do?" He doesn't care if he sounds desperate, he just wants to please her.

"Harder. Please."

He breathes a laugh and obliges.

She screams Sam's name when she comes and Gadreel growls hers.

She falls asleep in his arms, happy and sated. He watches her sleep and mends her body.

* * *

When Dean wakes up in the morning, a strange perfume greets her. It takes her a moment to realize where it is coming from.

She sits bolt upright and looks around the room, utterly horrified at what she sees.

The floor is gone; covered in foliage and flowers. Grass, red daisies, and daffodils.

Sam is still asleep, his arms stretched over to her side of the bed. Dean gets up, yanks her clothes on, and rips the greenery out as quietly as she can. The roots are all intertwined and there's no dirt for them to take hold in, so it's like rolling up a carpet.

She drags the mess outside, where the sun greets her by unapologetically stabbing her in the eyes. Hurrying back to the room, she is pleased to see Sam still asleep. "Ezekiel," she whispers, and his eyes pop open as they flash blue.

He sits up and looks at her. As if he has no idea what she has called him for, he asks very calmly, "What is it?"

"I thought you were a soldier," she snaps, eyeing a clump of flowers she missed hiding under the bed. Dean stalks forward and wrenches the stalks free.

"I am," he answers, a little confused.

" _Then what's with all the freaking flowers, man?!_ " She shakes the blooms at him, letting her frustrations bleed into her voice. "I mean, okay, they're nice. They're pretty. But they aren't natural, and I can't explain to Sam or Cas how they got here!"

His face falls a bit and she feels sorry for snapping at him like that. But the stakes are too high and she cannot afford to have either Castiel or Sam become aware that there is something out of place in their home.

"Look, I'm sorry, Zeke," she tries, hoping to mend the barb, "I just- I need you to control this. This was too much. So please, _please_ … be careful with the flowers."

He nods firmly, swallowing and lowering his gaze to the floor. "I shall endeavor to do better."

She sighs in relief, "Thank you, Zeke."

* * *

Sam contemplates what he knows while he walks the trail through the woods surrounding the bunker. He knows he is losing time. He doesn't know how or why, he just knows he is. He knows the odd appearance of flowers and the sudden fertility of the soil has something to do with it, too. It isn't natural and something foreign is causing it.

He has ruled out witchcraft. No witch would try and help them out. And no witch would put in this amount of effort to just harmlessly fuck with them.

He has ruled out fertility gods. No other area has been affected, and unless Dean hasn't told him something, _he_ sure as hell didn't make a sacrifice to a god.

When he gets back to the bunker, Sam leaves a perfect line of mint leaves he got from his walk down the middle of the kitchen table. _Mint represents suspicion_ , he nods to himself, and goes to the War Room to continue his search.

Gadreel swipes the leaves off the table an hour later and Dean never sees them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daffodil = respect, unrequited love  
> Red Daisy = beauty unknown to possessor  
> Grass = submission  
> Mint = suspicion


	6. Heliotrope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin is brought into the bunker and Dean makes a discovery.

Sam and Dean find Kevin, who seems a little miffed that he's been found. Of course, it takes a bit of persuading to convince Kevin that he'll be safe back at the bunker with them. 

_"You assholes! I got away from you once and now you're trying to drag me back?"_

_"You get to translate the tablet in peace. Plus… you know you miss the speedy wifi."_

_"… You always were the crafty one, Sam."_

_"So, does that mean you're coming back with us?"_

_"Screw you, Dean – don't put words in my mouth. Grab the suitcase under my bed for me, will you?"_

Dean wrestles with herself about whether or not to tell Kevin about Ezekiel, but she eventually settles for keeping him in the dark. Less loose ends that way.

But he ends up noticing the tendencies for flowers to grow in odd places. Dandelions in the corners, sage sprouting from door frames, and yarrow wreathing around tree trunks. On the third day, he approaches Dean cautiously while she's tuning up one of the Men of Letter's many motorcycles. 

Her plaid sleeves are rolled up and she has motor oil streaking her cheek, smeared over her hands, and dotting her t-shirt. She doesn't hear him come up to her over the radio. She jumps when he clears his throat and wields the wrench she's already holding as a weapon as she spins to face him. Dean sighs in relief and relaxes her stance when she sees it's him.

Slapping her free hand over her heart, she exclaims, "Shit, Kevin! You damn near gave me a heart attack!"

Kevin gives her a moment to collect herself before holding up the sprig of bright purple flowers he found growing out of the shower drain. He watches her face go flat and the color drain slightly from her face. He tells her where he found it and she closes her eyes to take in a deep breath. "Dean," he begins in a firm, but friendly tone (people respond better when he uses this voice), "Is there something I need to know?"

She opens her eyes and stares at her feet. Then she sniffs and comes clean as best she can. 

The Righteous Man does her best to explain to the Prophet of the Lord why there is an angel inside her brother and why he can never know. The prophet understands, but lets her know that Sam needs to be told eventually.

She agrees with him and they go about their separate businesses. Dean thinks she will put 'eventually' in the next few days so she can look Sam in the eyes without flinching.

Then Sam walks in and she tosses 'eventually' into the far future where even she can't see it.

* * *

Gadreel walks down the hallway and sees Dean with a troubled look on her face. She looks almost embarrassed, but she meets his gaze firmly.

“Oh, hey, Sam,” she says, not at all jovial and very unlike herself, “I was looking for you.”

He knows. He felt her distress and felt the need to find her. “Yeah,” he greets casually, “What’s up?”

Lies swirl around her head and form into a half-truths. That wouldn’t do at all. “I, uh… was talkin’ to Kevin and he,” she jerks a thumb over her shoulder and half-turns in the direction she came from, “had some concerns about… mold.”

Gadreel scrunches Sam’s brows together. “You’re worried,” he offers, trying to throw her off, “and it’s not about mold.”

She drops her terrible, terrible _‘I’m Fine’_ posture and accompanying facial expression. Her tiredness shows and how much of a loss she is with what to do with… anything, really.

Quickly reaching out and determining that Kevin is substantially distracted a good distance away, he gently moves forward and cups her chin in his warm palm.

She takes in a breath and pulls away, “Sam, I need to-”

He steps forward and kisses her, stopping the words from spilling out of her mouth and shedding light on the truth. The truth that she thinks she is talking to Sam and trying to tell him that she lied to him.

He wants to live in this fantasy for a little while longer. He wants to live in a old where Dean loves him.

The fantasy is made real when Dean kisses him back and melts into his arms.

Gadreel moves his hands to her waist and shifts himself forward so he can hold her up more easily.

Her muscles tighten and she takes in a deep, grounding breath as she stills suddenly.

He freezes, wondering what he could have possibly done to alarm her. "Dean?"

"You'd never hurt me, right?" Dean's voice is odd and airy, as though she's walking on ice of an unknown thickness.

Gadreel gives a breathy laugh and kisses her neck before leaning back to look her in the eyes. "Of course I wouldn't, Dean," he says, still utilizing Sam's voice and word choice, "I'd never-" He sees the look on her face and he stops.

Dean looks like she's discovered a betrayal from her most trusted. She looks like her heart has been shattered. Lips parted slightly, eyes pleading; she looks like she is scared for her life, despite his promise.

"Dean," he repeats in a more serious tone, letting the joy of the prior moments fall away, "You’re safe, you know I'd do anything for you."

She closes her mouth and swallows, her blonde hair drooping a bit in the front from her sweat working in the garage.

And then he realizes her wrists are still pinned to the wall. With his Grace. The world stops for a moment and all his hopes and dreams come crashing down with that single realization.

She must see the understanding dawn on his features because her breaths pick up a bit. Breathlessly, she asks, "How long?"

He wets his lips before trying, "Dean-"

"How long?!" Anger replaces her fear in an instant, dreading that it was him and not Sam she's been loving.

He wants to tell her it is all right, that Sam does love her in the same way. He wants to tell her that it was only recently that he began stealing time with her from Sam; stealing time with Sam from _her_. He wants to say he wanted to send Castiel away because he was jealous of the angel that pulled the Righteous Man from Hell, and that his jealousy terrified him. He wants to say that he fell in love with her soul and he loves her just as Sam does.

He does none of that. Instead, he closes his eyes and breathes out slowly. "You were not supposed to see me," he confesses gently, moving his hands up her back to pull her into an embrace.

She makes an aborted whine as her skin crawls, his touch no longer welcome as he increases contact with her and buries his face in her neck.

Gadreel breathes her in and tries to figure out what he should do next. He cannot leave Sam. Sam would end up in a coma if he did that and Dean would never forgive him. He will not force Dean to continue down their previous path, no matter what he wants in this moment. He knows Dean will never trust him again, regardless of what he is doing for Sam, and he would not blame her if she tells Castiel and every other angel she meets about him and where to find him.

"Ezekiel," she says in a firm, deceptively calm voice, "Let go of me. Right now."

"My name," he begins, holding her tighter, "is Gadreel." And he feels a burden lift from his shoulders. 

"Am I supposed to know that name?" Her voice is acid and he does not blame her for her wrath.

"I was the angel guarding the Garden of Eden," he confesses softly, "Lucifer deceived me and I was blamed. Since the moment Adam and Eve were ejected from Eden, I was imprisoned in Heaven and tortured for my shortcomings. I suffered for millennia, none of my brothers or sisters showing me kindness or sympathy." He swallows. "I made… one mistake, and I was never forgiven for it."

Dean is silent. He releases her wrists and she grasps his shoulders tightly. She doesn't push away yet. She's still waiting for her question to be answered.

He does not know how to properly do this. He knows he is scared, scared that she will reject him even after everything. "I know I was wrong," he whispers slowly, placing a small kiss at the curve on her skin where her shoulder meets her neck, "And I know how you must hate me. But your brother loves you. I did not touch you when it was the two of you together until later."

"Later?" Her voice is sharp, but not as sharp as it was before. Not accusing. "When was 'later'?"

"That night in the library," he answers, fondly recalling the now bittersweet memory, "You came up behind me and crossed your arms over my chest."

" _His_ chest," she corrects hotly, "I was supposed to be touching Sam, not you."

He nods. The verbal slap burns through him and shame floods all his senses. "I never meant for you to mistake me for him," he realizes he is trembling slightly and that his throat is dry, "but I could not… I _wanted_ -" He cuts himself off and breathes in deeply, adjusting his grip and holding her even closer. He does not know when he will be able to hold her like this again, even as she makes a few resisting movements. "I wanted to know how it felt. I wanted you to touch me, I wanted you to love me as you loved him, I _wanted_ and the _want_ did not leave, I am _so sorry_ , I never meant-" His voice breaks and he swallows.

Gadreel feels Dean's hands rub small, soothing circles into his back. He pulls in a shaky breath and does not allow himself to believe that this is forgiveness. Dean is angry and he does not know what she will do.

But he has decided what _he_ is going to do.

"Garden of Eden, huh? At least that explains the flowers." Her voice is smoother, but still retains its edge.

He treads carefully. "It was… an unconscious thing. Never before have I felt what I have when I am with you."

She nuzzles her chin against his temple. "I'm sorry."

Whether she is apologizing for how he feels or whether she is apologizing because it seems like the right thing to say, he does not care. "Know that my apologies cannot reach the depth that you deserve," he states, pulling back to look her in the eyes. _A more perfect green will not exist_ , he thinks sadly and wonders if he will be forgiven for this, either.

He leans forward and kisses her. She kisses him back, but it is different now. He almost sobs when he recognizes that there is no love in hers. She knows he has the upper hand and she is allowing him to kiss her. Gadreel places his hand on the side of her head and makes her forget.

She goes limp in his arms and he simply stands there for a moment, holding her.

Gadreel shifts his hold on her, one arm under her shoulders and the other under her knees and carries her to her room. As he lays her down on the bed, he resolves to not touch her again once he leaves the room.

His heart aches as he gazes at her. Her short blonde hair cut perfectly and her constellation of freckles across her nose, her black tee under her green jacket and her jeans with the too-small pockets she would always complain about.

Leaning forward, he places one last kiss on her brow and leaves the room, shutting the light off as he goes. He walks into Sam's room, lays down on the bed and closes his eyes.

Gadreel fades into Sam's mind and returns single-mindedly to the task of mending Sam's body. He doesn't know if he can manage to look Dean in the eye in the coming days.

* * *

Sam leaves the bunker the next day and stops cold a few feet from the door. All the flowers that have been growing are dead. He finds strange, small but bushy, purple-red blooms in a drooping row winding around and hanging off the trees. And small, spindly bushes with tiny yellow blossoms are growing sporadically around the trees and along the trail he sometimes walks along in the evenings.

He takes pictures of the flowers and sends an email to Charlie again, asking for the identification and meaning.

Two minutes later, he gets a reply.

~

_Foxtail amaranth or love-lies-bleeding (Amaranthus caudatus). Represents hopelessness._

_Rue (Ruta graveolens). Represents regret and sorrow – repentance._

_Is everything okay? I mean, not that I don't appreciate you asking for my help, but you usually don't need my help with these kinds of things. Is Dean okay? Should I be worried?_

_I know you guys can take care of yourselves, but if you need help, you need to let me know or I WILL find out later and kick your asses._

_Seriously, though… is everything okay?_

_\- CB_

~

Sam feels a little bad about having worried Charlie, but he sends a reply insisting that he's merely curious and hasn't felt 100% back to normal since the Trials. But he IS feeling better, Charlie, truly. There's no need to worry.

He voices his thoughts one evening in the library to Dean, saying how he feels a lot better and he isn't sleeping as much as he used to. Dean looks up with a sort of suspicion in her eyes before it clears away and she says how glad she is that he's feeling better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heliotrope = devotion  
> Love-lies-bleeding = hopelessness  
> Yarrow = cure for heartache  
> Dandelion = faithfulness, happiness, love’s oracle  
> Sage = wisdom, great respect


	7. Mallow

"Sam?"

"Hmm?"

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, everything's good. Why?"

"I don't know… you just seem. Different."

"You feel it, too?"

"Yeah. Past few days, you've been acting a little off."

"Yeah, uh… I feel a little off, but. I also feel more… in control? I'm not losing time or blacking out like I was."

"Huh. Thank God for that."

"Heh. Something like that."

* * *

Gadreel keeps his promise. He does not touch Dean and Dean does not touch him. He stays far away from the forefront of Sam's mind when he and Dean are intimate and it pains him because he refuses to even be calmed by the byproduct emotions caused.

He will not let himself feel Sam's joy or love. He will not let himself hear either of them professing their love for each other. And he will not be tempted to do so again.

He only comes out if Dean plays the songs or whispers the lyrics. A week goes by after he took her memories from her before she calls him out.

"Hey, Zeke," she greets casually, blissfully unaware of the crime he has committed against her, "You doing okay? How's Sam?"

Gadreel reminds himself that she does not care about him. The only reason he is here is because of what he can do for Sam. "Your brother is almost healed," he answers calmly as he looks down at her tiny frame, "It should not be long now, before I am no longer needed."

Dean blinks and worry flickers across her face. "You seem kinda… I dunno, sad? Different? I dunno. You okay?" She makes a movement toward him and he takes a step back. Her face becomes openly worried and a little hurt. "Zeke?"

He keeps his expression stoic as he responds, "I have become too attached to you and Sam and I must take my leave soon. It will be better if I keep my distance until then."

Quirking her head slightly, she takes in his words. A slight grin plays on her lips and grows into a broad, sly smile as she asks, "Are you… are you gonna miss us?" Her eyes are lightheartedly narrowed as she studies him.

Taking in a deep breath, he weighs his options. He can lie, he can tell the truth, or he can change the subject. He rules out two of them, as he refuses to lie any more than he must toward Dean, and changing the subject is as good as telling the truth. He lets his breath out and answers, "Yes. I will. You have given me sanctuary and a place to gather my strength."

He wants to add,  _ You have given me more trust in the time I have spent with you than my brothers and sisters have given me in my entire lifetime _ , but he does not say that when he sees Dean's playfulness fade to quiet surprise.

Instead, he swallows his heart and tells her that he will bring Sam back in a moment and that she should go back to where she was originally standing when he came in.

Dean appears to be a little reluctant, but she does as he suggests. He closes his eyes and lets Sam slip forward.

* * *

A vine of white roses winding around a chair in the corner of the war room withers and dies within a few minutes. A small marigold pushes its way through a crack in the concrete under the Impala. And despite how hard the creator tries to tamp down his emotions, a mallow sprouts from the corner of Sam's room alongside a rainflower.

Gadreel focuses on helping Sam's body not only recover, but work better and more efficiently than it had before.

He does not want to leave. But he knows he must.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dead / dried white roses = sorrow  
> Marigold = pain and grief  
> Mallow = consumed by love  
> Rainflower = I love you back, I must atone for my sins, I will never forget you


	8. Raspberry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gadreel takes his leave of the Winchesters.

Castiel is kept out of the loop, mainly thanks to Kevin giving him things to occupy his time and attention. He learns to cook (but not without burning several meals first), takes up sketching (Kevin takes him into town and gets him notebooks and pencils), and helps keep the bunker clean. Well, as clean as it can be.

Eleven days later, Dean is sharpening a knife in the kitchen when Sam joins her at the table. She smiles and looks up at him, only to recognize Ezekiel's eyes hidden in her brother's.

"Sam is healed," he states flatly.

She doesn't know why her heart deflates a bit at the news.

"I thank you for your hospitality and generosity," he continues, sliding his gaze to the knife in her hand, "and apologize for any and all transgressions I have committed against you and your family."

Her brows furrow as she racks her brain for anything he's done wrong. "Oh… okay? Um. You're welcome and I… forgive you?" She's not said those words in that way before _(I forgive you)_ and it shocks her that they came out. But Zeke reacts in such a manner to her words that makes her want to repeat them. "I forgive you," she pronounces, reaching out and touching his hand (he seems surprised that she touched him), "Thank you for doing what you said you would. I'm sorry for doubting you."

Zeke looks up at her, his eyes shining. He stands up suddenly and blinks at her. "I shall leave now, but before I do, I want to give you something."

Something? She rises to her feet and asks, "What is it?"

He says nothing, but leads the way up and out of the bunker, into the bright, fresh world outside littered with new flowers that would never have grown if not for him. He stops when he's walked at least ten feet from the entrance and then turns to face her. "I took something from you that was not mine to take," he says nervously, "but I'm going to give it back now."

Dread climbs up her spine. An angel took something from her. She hadn't even noticed anything was gone – what had he taken? Why was he coming clean now? He extends his hand and Dean hesitates. She steps forward and takes it. When nothing immediately happens, she looks up at the angel.

"Please remember," he implores with such gentleness that seems almost familiar, "He loves you, and I love you, as well." 

His eyes are open and truthful and sad and _did he just say he loved her?_ Before she can open her mouth, light flashes down his arm, up over hers, and into her brain, lighting up synapses and breaking down walls she hadn't even known needed broken down.

_"My name is Gadreel." She was being held up against a cool wall, drowning in pure adoration from her brother- "You were not supposed to see me." -no, not Sammy. "I could not… I_ wanted _-" Him. "My apologies cannot reach the depth that you deserve." His sadness crashed over her like a tidal wave, mixed with his happiness when they touched and kissed and-_

Dean gasps and stumbles backwards at the force of memories returned to her. Her memories and emotions mixed with his, it's overwhelming and her vision blurs with tears.

"I am sorry, Dean," he says, voice filled with remorse and honesty, "Close your eyes." Too dumbstruck to do otherwise, she obeys instantly as he tilts his head back and a bright light pours from Sam's face.

She doesn't look up until she hears knees hit the ground. Dean gasps as she looks into Sam's confused eyes.

"Dean? What-"

Rushing over to him, she attacks him with a hug and forces the air from his lungs. Her eyes still sting with the threat of tears and she hides them from Sam.

_Gasping. "What is it? What can I do?" "Harder. Please."_

She wants to scream. She wants to scream because she doesn't know what else to do. It makes sense, it makes too much sense and she wants to break something, she wants to kill something, she wants-

"Dean, why are we outside? What happened?"

She sniffs and helps Sam to his feet. He is worried when he sees her unshed tears, but she stops him and promises she'll tell him when they get inside.

When they do, Dean gets a bottle of whiskey she's been saving for a few months now. By the time she finishes the story, the two of them have put away most of the bottle. She's begged for her brother's forgiveness six times and he's given it each time.

They spend the next ten hours in Sam's bed, holding each other and whispering assurances if the other begins to break down.

"His name was Gadreel," Dean whispers into the quiet darkness. Sam shifts and tenses beside her, unsure of where she's taking this train of thought. "His name was Gadreel. He lied to me, but he saved you."

Sam says nothing. He pulls her flush against him and tucks her head under his chin.

"But you know what? I'd do it again."

He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. She hasn't asked for forgiveness – and this time, he will not give it.

In the woods surrounding the bunker, a score of raspberry bushes grow and bear fruit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Purple Hyacinth = sorrow, please forgive me  
> Raspberry = remorse


End file.
